


Magnus Lost a pushup contest

by Fangirl_Forever



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Family Fluff, Fluff, Sweet Magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 08:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_Forever/pseuds/Fangirl_Forever
Summary: Little One asked why Papa didn’t workout with Daddy and Magnus’s confidence and mouth got him into a contest he couldn’t win.





	Magnus Lost a pushup contest

**Author's Note:**

> Written and posted to my Tumblr before BOEN came out, which is why Max is referred to as "Little One".  
> *I don't own these characters.  
> **If you see any errors, let me know!

Magnus fell to the floor, groaning as his arms gave out. This push-up contest was a bad idea. Who’s idea was it again? Oh right. His.

He pointedly ignored the giggles he heard coming from his son and husband. He should’ve known better than to think he could win a physical contest against his shadowhunter partner. But Little One had been looking up at him with those adorable puppy eyes of his and Magnus simply couldn’t say no to him.

Speak of the devil, Little One plopped down to the floor beside him, still giggling. He shook Magnus’s shoulder excitedly. “You lost, Papa!” He climbed on top of Magnus’s back, stretching out his tiny body along Magnus’s as far as he could.

Magnus lifted his head and glared at Alec, who was still doing push-ups. Alec blushed and smiled at him. Magnus rolled over, gently sliding Little One off his back. “Yes, I lost. It’s been known to happen on occasion,” Magnus said with dignity.

Little One bounced up onto his feet and scrambled onto Alec’s back instead, clinging to Alec’s neck with his arms. “Do more pushups, Daddy! You won!”

Alec did another few push-ups to placate his son before he grabbed Little One’s arms, straightened up and climbed to his feet. “I know I won, and I want my reward now. So come on, Papa.”

Little One squealed and kicked his legs happily, accidentally kicking Alec’s back as Alec carried him to the kitchen.

Magnus followed them, dusting off his clothes. Inside the kitchen, Magnus pulled Little One off of Alec’s back and set him down in his booster seat, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “OK, what was it Daddy won?” he asked, bending down to his son’s level.

Little One bounced in his seat, clapping his hands. “If you lost and Daddy won, you have to cook all our meals for us for a week! And not make them appear out of the air, cause Daddy says that’s cheating, you have to really cook! Cause Daddy says you cook really good and he wishes you would cook for him more often!”

Alec blushed, sitting down at his usual place st the table, and busied himself with checking his phone. He glanced up and caught Magnus’s eyes and he felt his cheeks burn warmer.

Magnus sat down across from him at the table. He reached across the table and grabbed both of Alec’s hands, stroking his thumb across Alec’s skin. “Alexander, darling, all you have to do is ask. No need to trick me into silly contests to get me to cook for you.”

Alec snorted and smirked at him. “That ‘silly’ contest was your idea, Magnus, not mine. And it was just the first thing that popped into my head.”

Magnus smiled mischievously at him. “I could think of other things I could do for you, you know.” He winked and laughed out loud at the blush it put back on Alec’s face.

Alec swatted at Magnus’s hand, smiling despite his blush at Magnus’s dirty thoughts. “We can talk about that later. Let this be a future reminder not to try to beat me in a physical contest. But come on, lets get dressed and go get groceries. You’re gonna do this right, through and through.”

Together they stood up, their hands still linked. Magnus lifted Little One to his hip with his other arm and they exited the kitchen, Little One talking ninety miles an hour in their ears about all the meals he wanted Papa to make for them.


End file.
